


heretic

by symphorophilia (klismaphilia)



Series: With Dark Lenses [2]
Category: Outlast (Video Games), Outlast 2 - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Horror, Come Inflation, Graphic Description of Corpses, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kinda, Mental Breakdown, Oral Sex, Other, Tentacle Rape, Xenophilia, its all weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:34:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10732356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klismaphilia/pseuds/symphorophilia
Summary: Every bone, every muscle, everycellin Blake’s body had told him to stay away from the water.He should have listened.





	heretic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [intoxicated_by_our_lies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/intoxicated_by_our_lies/gifts).



The darkness was all-encompassing. A sea of pitch, surging around Blake’s consciousness, tangling between his limbs, through his chest, along the curve of his spine… dragging him, like the disease-ridden hands of that deranged cultist, down and down and _down_ into the black…

His skull was throbbing. Head pounding, sickness seeping into his veins, through his lungs like the ichor of the water he’d swallowed, poison in his bloodstream. It _oozed_ along his skin, moulding tighter and tighter to him, and all he could see were those _red-eyed wraiths, scraggly nails sunk deep in his skin, clawing at him--_

He tried to breathe. Gasped, desperate for air around the endless mouthful of putrid water that bubbled up out of him. Blake’s stomach was gurgling, surging with bile as he struggled to right himself. His hands… hurt. Palms were stinging, as he frantically struggled to keep himself afloat, the crashing rapids and his static vision only driving his mind closer to the brink of chaos…

_Dying._

_Dying, I must be dying, I--_

The _voice._ It came back, fervent as ever, the prayers of his youth surmounting inside him, tormenting him with a false hope…! _As if_ there was anything left to hope for! As if there was a _God_ at all? No. Where was _God_ when Jessica killed herself? Where was _God_ when those depraved _maniacs_ strung him up to a cross, hammered nails into his arms, right through skin and bone?

_I need not fear_

_If thou art near…_

The repetitive whisper, the solemn prayer… _oh,_ it was meant to be a guiding light, but for what? A light driving him to his demise, his skin sticky with blood and grime, sweat lining every inch of Blake’s filthy skin… they should _never_ have come here. Everything would have been alright if…

If they weren’t…

_Lynn._

That’s right, he needed to find Lynn. No matter what Jess said to him, no matter how often the light drew over his face and made the cultists _swarm_ him like volatile locusts. He had-- he had an _objective,_ a wife. He could get back to his… his _wife._ She wasn’t part of this, she--

 _Light of light_ _  
_ _Keep me this night…_

_And shed round me, thine presence bright._

_\-- this way, Blake!_

“Jess! Jess, are you there?” Blake’s hand reached out, aimless, caught between lines of light and shadow that bathed his skin in an ethereal glow. He could _hear_ her, she was close, she was… she was there, Jess was _there,_ he wasn’t--

A screech. Dreadful, sickening, the pitch of a banshee. Wailing in the wind, _aaaaaaaeeeeeeee,_

_iiiiiiieeeeeeeee_

_aaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeeeeeee_

A flash of light… and then darkness.

 

* * *

 

 

He was… he was in the woods.

He was in the woods, leaning against the poorly-constructed wooden staircase that lead down from the mountain to a dock. Bright lights, _otherworldly, surreal,_ cast across a body of inky water, the gently rippling surface shining in open invitation. Blake glanced down to his own hands, once more, curled fingers tight around his camera.

_A lake… if I can get to the other side…_

Hurriedly, he rushed down the stairs, boots clacking against the wooden floor with each step, crunching between twigs and gravel as he stumbled off the bottom step, frantic. The waving branches of pine trees caught him in his face, needles casting lines of red over his skin. Leaves rustled, whipping against him as he pushed the underbrush aside, stumbling and running and stumbling and…

_I’m there. I’m here. Alright. Al… alright._

Blake’s breath caught, and he shook his head nonsensically, licking his lips. “I’m not putting a fucking toe in that water…” he mused, gaze caught on the murky glow of it, the ripples that lapped gently over the shoreline. His skin began to tingle, overcast by a line of goosebumps, something pricking at the nape of his neck. A hand pressed upon his back, insistent, _demanding._ As though something were pushing him to step inside…

_It’s a lake. The water is so warm here. Surely it wouldn’t be too bad to take a quick swim?_

**_No!_ ** Blake’s head shouted back. _Lynn. Find Lynn, find her, get away from the others, find a boat, just--_

“There’s something wrong. That lake is wrong, it’s…” he continued to mumble, the screen of his camera pulsing with a distant, shadowy light. Batteries were low. _Fuck._

He kept his pace, sprinting over to the dock and looking at the run-down lakehouse. The windows were smeared over with age, locks rusted shut; jiggling the doorknob proved just as useless. Blake raised a hand to his face, the stress so cacophonous he could feel tears begin to prick at his eyes.

He glanced down the dock, over the edges into that onyx pit of slime…

 _No raft._ Could there be one nearby? Perhaps? Anything… anything to get to her. He had to get to Lynn, had to save her--!

A fire lit atop the high-arch of a cliff; screams echoed through the nighttime sky, the glinting light focused solely on the chaotic scene above him. Across the lake, a circle of figures; high off the ground and pushing someone toward the precipice. Their hands seemed bound, though they were immolating-- Blake couldn’t tell. The scream echoed again.

_It was a woman._

_“Lynn!”_ Blake shouted. His nails sunk through his nailed palms, eyes shuttered as he heard the deep _thud_ of something in the distance… it couldn’t be, could it? They wouldn’t… she _couldn’t_ die, and…

 _Fuck it._ And Blake was pushing off the dock, throwing himself into the water, clothes floating at his sides while the liquid drenched him with such a bone-deep chill that Blake found himself stilling.

A noise came from beneath him; a delighted clicking, and yet he tried to ignore it. _Wanted_ to ignore it, despite the dread surmounting in his gut, the twisting reeds against his lower legs.

He began to swim. Going through motion after motion against the rushing current. The lights were still on the horizon, too far away, too high in the air… Blake wanted to scream. His terror built within him, quivering there in his own soiled clothing, the lake around him flickering red with his own blood…

But not _his,_ it wasn’t. There were… _heads, limbs…_ corpses, floating, seeming to crowd the space around him the closer he got to land. Blake reared back, spotting a patch of dry land to his right. He kicked into the water, _I just need to get over there, a little further, please--_

As suddenly as the touch came, a rapid had knocked him off-guard. Blake tumbled back, into the water, _under it,_ his glasses lost to the unknown depths, still wriggling to keep himself afloat, trying to get _away_ from it.

 _It._ There was something wrong, his instincts had _told him,_ and it was clear now more than ever. Something teased along the arch of his foot, drew up between his thighs to curl around them, tight and slick and--

_Oh God-- please, fuck’s sake, no, no, NO._

Blake was tossed backward, his legs parted by whatever creature was forcing its way between them, sharp lacerations cut through his clothes, shearing into his skin. He gasped, startled, and water bubbled into his lungs as he did, his eyes wide and blinking and _I can’t see, why can’t I see?_

A salacious oozing _thing_ pried apart his lips, forcing its way deep into his throat, drawing over his tongue with a wriggling, coarse-textured appendage, bloated in his mouth and straining Blake’s aching jaw. He thrashed, legs kicking up and out, something longer circling his waist as that hand from before pressed into the small of his back, ushering him into the thing’s company.

 _Messiah,_ it said, _don’t fear._

_You’re safe now…_

_Better here…_

_Let us_ worship _you, oh divine one, our Scalled Messiah. So full of innocence and beauty… virtuous and untouched by Our taint. More lovely than any woman, our Savior._

A wonderful, pleasant spark lurched from his core, suddenly alight with sensation. There was a swarm before him, at his back and near his head, blanketing the reach of dead arms and severed limbs. Those bled-dry things, distorted and pale as a phantom, reached for him, hefted up his weight until he was afloat once more, on his back with his hair fanned out like a halo, his legs propped by the assistance of limbs around either knee. The presence still spoke, whispering into his ear as the slime of the creature restraining him dribbled down his face. A sticky tentacle carded through his hair, rubbing soothingly at his neck, as though... attempting to provide  _comfort._

Blake reached out for it in spite of himself, the dried blood of his punctured arms an invitation unlike any other. The tongue flicked along his jaw, withdrawing from the sheathe of Blake’s raw esophagus. It trailed down over his front, his shirt undone and discarded with some unseen force. How long had Blake been here? Was he losing… time? Everything was flickering… black to white to red…

_Thou art my savior_

_Kind and dear…_

That sickly, wicked touch worked its way beneath his clothing, his naked legs rigidly bound by the reach of curling appendages on either side. The creature seized him, drew his body up from the waters of putrefaction, its tentacle-tongues twitching against him while it inspected Blake’s skin. Something wriggling, thick and warm and distinctly _inhuman_ slid along the soft nerve of his perineum, gliding over the exposed, wet shine of his hole, probing experimentally. Blake’s knee jerked, his foot splashing back into the lake as the thing stiffened.

The black swarm at the corners of his vision was buzzing now, excited as it could likely be. A tar like mass, it slid over the defined edges of Blake’s ribcage, steadying his hips in a mechanized, irreverent grip.

 _“Aaah--!”_ The startled cry was torn out of him at the sudden intrusion, the feeling of his entrance being penetrated, shifting and spreading wide to make room for the girth of whatever was inside of him. Those broken nails, rotting hands cupped the swell of his ass, holding his cheeks apart from each other to make room for the monster they served. The sharpness of the swarm began buzzing, and pain shot into Blake, up and out through the organs. His vision was dying, overtaken by a piercing wave of sensation plucked from Blake’s nerves to be released beneath his skin, all through his contracting muscles and parting guts.

The water rushed into him, too, filtering around the creature’s over-large bulge. Blake shuddered as it flooded him, bathing him anew with the curse of this place, of those damned to spend their lives here. The violation was damning as it was disgusting, his body gushing with overripe fluids and the cult's disease worming inside his open wounds. He sobbed, brokenly, an open cry into the gelid air about him, thinking of _Lynn,_ his Lynn, _her eyes, her voice, how am I to get back to her, what would she say if she knew? She’s dead, I’m dead I’m dead we’re all dead, piles of bones, heaps of flesh, my tongue cut out of my mouth, it’s so_ big, _Christ!_

His puckered rim twitched, each motion of his body only pulling the tentacles ever deeper, another sliding inside to join the first. Like the mouth of a demon, with a forked tongue eating his taint, corrupting him further as it sought to fill him with its fluids, make him as corrupt as his torturers...  _Lynn’s torturers._ Blake could scarcely breathe, it was so much at once…

_makeitstop please makeitgoaway Lynn I need to find Lynn I need to be free, fuck, my hands...!_

A wave of bliss surges through him, climbing up the ridge of his spine and cresting to a peak within his abdomen. There’s a visible lump, now, beneath the flesh lining his stomach, and his guts are visibly distended, being pushed into with abandon at the creature’s rutting, aiming to spill its seed in his belly, the promise of such an unsanct union too much for it to resist. Screaming echoes down into the valley from somewhere in the distance, the last lights on the cliffside flickering out. Blake writhes and spasms, everything clenching tight all at once, his inner muscles bearing down upon the monster as the swarm of black, malicious static seizes his vision. Something hot bursts, and a flood spills over the dam, Blake’s pathetic figure caught in the middle of it as he screams and screams and _screams_ to no avail.

He finds himself cast aside, crashing upon a shoreline of solitude, without anything to guide him but that gentle tongue marking his being. His skin breaks into a rash at the touch, each one, wherever it is, and he grians as he raises a palm to slide against the distention of his abdomen. His stomach is still so swelled, nutted full with the creature’s excrement. It squeezes him like a snake, crushing Blake’s sore chest, his weakened hips, withdrawing back to the depths from which it came, nothing but a small series of bubbles to show it had been there at all.

Blake Langermann has never felt more lost than he does now. He hugs his knees to his chest, glassy eyes trained on the flashes of light in the sky, a shaking vessel. Blake's hands clasp together, as though in a display of prayer-- but it doesnt help.

With a distorted breath, Blake falls into madness, weeping at the crest of the bloody beach.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired purely by the fucking tongue monster in Outlast 2, the fact that there are basically no fics for it yet and the knowledge that I’m a pervert who wants to taint everything with xenophilia.
> 
> That aside, I'm a bit disappointed with the game overall, but there are so many great fic possibilities, so I guess I just gotta write alternative canon myself xD
> 
> Kudos and comments brighten my day! :)


End file.
